This Tormented Mask
by Akuma Shisou
Summary: Concerned for the well-being of his family, a French wizard signs a mission contract. A young chunin with a scarred past is sent, but his selection hides an ulterior motive. Cold, and calculating, he is a model shinobi. Aided from the shadows by his companions, will this mission give him the closure he so desperately needs?
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

It was dark when Shiro woke. From his bed, he could see the radiance of the moon outside his window. Checking the clock on his nightstand, he saw it was nearly the time he had planned to wake.

He got out of bed already dressed in his shinobi clothes. His vest, with all his equipment lay neatly spread out on a table. With a sober face, Shiro quickly equipped himself. He slipped into his green vest, and zipped up the front. Most of his important items were already sealed into scrolls pocketed in the scroll pouches. The large pouch, containing basic medical supplies, and standard ninja tools he attached behind him to the clasped buckle belt. A couple of smaller pouches he attached on either side of his waist. Then he wrapped a pair of bandages tightly around his legs, and around his right thigh before slipping into his sturdy shinobi sandals. His shuriken holster he strapped over the bandage on his thigh. His favorite weapon, a straight tanto with a blade of gleaming silver he strapped above his main pouch. Within its sheath, it appeared nothing more than a short stick. Afterwards he slipped on his black gloves with metal plating protecting the knuckles. Finally he wrapped his bandana around his head. The symbol of the Leaf Village was proudly etched into a piece of metal stitched onto the front of the cloth.

Shiro exited his room suppressing a yawn as he did so. It was only three hours sleep. A light was shining from downstairs. A touch suspicious, he cautiously went down the stairs, and found Naruto seated despondently at the kitchen table. The boy looked up at him, and his expression brightened as he smiled.

"Nissan!"

Shiro gave the boy he had come to love as a little brother a gentle smile. Naruto hurried over to give him a tight hug, and Shiro felt his heart clench as he moved his hands to return the hold.

Naruto was an outcast of the village, despised, and alone for something he had no control over, or even knew. Many years ago the village had been attacked by the Nine Tailed Fox, a being of pure chakra. Many shinobi died in the attack, and a great part of the village was devastated. Being a creature of pure chakra, the Nine Tails was impossible to kill. It was defeated only when the Fourth Hokage sealed it into a newborn child at the cost of his own life.

After the Fourth's death, the retired, and aging Sarutobi, the Third Hokage reassumed his role, and passed a law that no one was to ever speak of this. He hoped that people would be able to see past the pain the attack had caused, but alas, the villagers only saw the demon in the boy. Though they obeyed the law, with those who didn't being severely punished, they despised Naruto, and treated him thus. Naturally their children took up the views of their parents, and Naruto found himself alone, and shunned for a reason he knew not.

Shiro at first hadn't cared about the boy, but one day upon encountering him in a store and observing the cold treatment he had to endure, sympathy rose up. It was a rare feeling. He spent the next couple of days observing the boy, before deciding to befriend him.

Naruto had been at first suspicious for no one had ever treated him normally, but upon waving a fat purse along with the offer to treat him, his defenses had pitifully shattered. That was the start of the bond that would bind the two together like family. Delighted to find someone who didn't shun him, Naruto had taken to seeking him out each day. One night Shiro was woken by soft knocking on his front door. Upon opening, he found Naruto standing there. The boy had shyly asked if he could sleep with him, and with a smile, Shiro let him in. He fell asleep again with Naruto snuggled against him. It was shortly after he offered Naruto the opportunity to live with him. He had been tackled with a flying hug, and his vest was dampened by tears.

"Good morning, Naruto," Shiro said quietly as the boy released him. He noted his worn features. "Why are you up so early? Did you sleep?"

Naruto shook his head. "I couldn't sleep. I'm scared… I wanted to say goodbye."

Shiro tenderly ruffled the blond hair. "I'm happy that I can say goodbye. I have to go, come with me Naruto."

Shiro opened the door of his house, and stepped out into the slumbering streets of Konoha. The moon was still bright, and vigorous in the night sky. He softly closed the door. Naruto slipped a hand into his gloved one, and the two proceeded through the snoring village to the gates.

At the gates there was a small procession waiting. Shiro was surprised to see Iruka, and the Third Hokage waiting alongside Izumo Kamizuki, and Kotetsu Hagane, his two best friends and teammates. A little way off leaning against the guardhouse was the jonin the Hokage had assigned to protect him. Shiro recognized the shock of white hair, and masked features immediately. It was Kakashi Hatake, the copy cat ninja, and one of the top jonin of the village. Shiro was hardly surprised. It would make sense the Hokage would pick someone like that concerning the nature of the mission.

Shiro walked up to the group, and looked at them silently. There were hardly any words to be spoken. The mission was clear.

Iruka Umino was the first to speak. Iruka was a brown skinned chunin with a scar across the bridge of his nose. He had done his fair share of bloody missions, but now worked as a teacher at the Academy due to his gentle nature which was more suited to handling children than spilling blood.

"It's a long mission, Shiro. Come back alive. Naruto, and I will be waiting."

Shiro smiled at the scarred chunin, and briefly clasped his hand. Iruka returned the smile, and moved to stand beside Naruto where he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. Initially Iruka had been wary of the boy, but he had soon come to regard him much like a surrogate brother. He was the only teacher at the Academy that treated the boy fairly and kindly outside of class.

"I'll take good care of Naruto," Iruka promised solemnly. Shiro felt his heart lighten at the words. He trusted Iruka to look after him. If he never returned, he was certain Iruka would look after Naruto much like he had done.

Shiro knelt down, to face the blond boy. "Goodbye, Naruto. Just wait, I'll be back in a year at least. Listen to Iruka, I want to see you have graduated when I return."

Naruto's eyes were moist; the boy struggling to hide his tears, but instead he gave a cheerful smile, and a thumbs-up. "I promise Shiro-Nissan. I will be the best ninja in the village, believe it!"

With a smile, and a chuckle, Shiro gave him a final hug. Naruto's hold around him tightened, and he felt the boy's hands clench around his vest, then he released him, and stood up.

"Lord Hokage," Shiro said with a brief dip of his head to the Third Hokage who stood silently watching. The aged man smiled wanly at him.

"Come Shiro, you have known me long enough to call me Grandpa. A squad of Outside shinobi will assist you for the duration of your mission. They will be under your command. One of them will meet you upon docking." Sarutobi's voice hardened. "Do not let the past interfere with your judgement. Your primarary focus will be the mission you have been assigned, and you will fulfill it your best capabilities as a shinobi of the Leaf Village."

"I understand Lord Hokage," Shiro said in an orderly tone. He cast a glance at the overlapping shadows of the gatehouse where Kakashi lounged. The white haired jonin hadn't moved a muscle.

"Ready, Shiro?" Kotetsu asked as Izumo looked at him expectantly.

Shiro nodded. Kakashi finally pushed himself away from the wall, and the group stepped outside the gate. Shiro glanced back one final time. He took in the sight of Naruto standing besides Iruka, and the Hokage. Behind them were the buildings of the village; his home. It would be more than a year before he would ever see it again, if at all. With one last smile to Naruto, he turned away, and shot off down the road flanked by his team.

They kept the fast pace all the way into dawn, and through the morning. For a while they kept to the road, but after many miles, turned off into the wooded terrain. They soared swiftly through the forest from tree to tree; leaping over rocks, streams, and flowing rivers until they reached the harbor town of Irushaki at noon.

The docks were a scene of heavy bustle. Brawny workers were unloading the contents of merchant ships, and storing it besides the piers. Shiro swept his eyes across the ships moored until he saw one that stood out from its wooden brethren. Constructed of metal, and operated by steam, that would be their transport, and cover. The gangplank was in place, and the captain was ready to meet them.

"So are you the shinobi I was paid to ferry to the Outside?"

"We are," Shiro responded. "Is everything ready?"

"Shipshape, and ready!" The captain responded with zeal. "We can leave the moment you are on board."

"Do so."

The captain spun around, and proceeded down the deck bellowing orders. The gangplank was removed, and bellowing great gouts of black smoke, the ship was steered away from the docks, and out of the harbor into open sea.

Shiro leaned against the side rails, as he stared across the ocean. He was a young boy of eighteen with short dark hair mostly hidden by his bandanna. A few stray bangs peeked through underneath like unruly children. His face was pleasant, and smooth with high, slightly angular cheekbones. His eyes possessed an unnatural hardness, and often raked whoever they fell upon with a cynical gaze.

He had been born near the end of the Third Great Ninja War. His parents had both been shinobi. His mother retired from the fighting when she gave birth to him. He never knew his father except from the stories she would fondly tell him every night when he was little. Often when he was young, his mother would take him to his father's grave, and stand there with tears slowly trickling from her eyes.

Perhaps this affected him in some way. As a child, Shiro possessed a seriousness rarely seen in children his age. Inspired by his parents, he declared his intention to become a shinobi. His mother refused at first, but he persisted day after day, month after month. He sought advice, and training from other shinobi. Most laughed at him, but there were a few who provided help. When his mother caught him practicing chakra control one day, she was furious, but Shiro faced her down, and again stated his intention to become a shinobi. It was a battle of resolve between mother, and son. With the greatest reluctance, Mitero eventually gave her consent, though it was a decision she would come to regret for the rest of her short life.

She began to train him in preparation for the Academy. When he joined at six, he was far ahead of his class, and his instructors praised him often. By the year's end before graduation, Shiro was by far the top of his class. But on that fateful day before the graduation ceremony, his class was taken outside the village on a survival training exercise.

Overseen by Tanaka Okido, a jonin level academy instructor who had taught his class the whole year, none suspected danger. And when Okido suddenly drove his sword into the heart of one of the two accompanying teachers, as masked shinobi burst from the trees, Shiro stood frozen in shock.

The other instructor cried out a frantic order to run, before he clashed with the enemy. There was brief clang of metal upon metal, and then he fell upon the soft grass never to rise. By the time, Shiro recovered, he and his classmates had already been incapacitated.

Blindfolded, they were taken to an unknown facility, and thrown into cells where they were given ample food each day. However every few weeks, their captors would fetch a few of them. They were dragged off, and never seen again.

Shiro was young, but he was well trained. When the day came where they approached his cell, he launched an attack on his three captors. Not expecting a child to be so ferocious, Shiro was able to seize a weapon from one, and stab the man through the heart. His two cellmates immediately joined, and together they overpowered, and killed the remaining guards. But the clamor had aroused the base.

Shiro fought fiercely, and when one of his classmates, a girl he had taken a strong interest in during his Academy year was viciously impaled, he lost focus, and allowed his rage to consume him. This lack of focus made him an easy opponent to subdue.

When he regained consciousness, he was again in his cell, but now alone. A tall pale faced man, with slit eyes was standing outside observing him. Shiro would later come to know him as Orochimaru the Snake Sannin. A former student of the Third Hokage, the man had betrayed the Leaf Village for his own goals.

The Sannin must have been impressed by him, for he was well treated thereafter, but when they finally came for him, Shiro would wish he had died. The fates of his classmates were revealed in the form of painful experiments carried out by a sallow, thin faced man known as Doctor.

It was eight months of hell as a lab rat, before the experiments ceased. The Sannin was delighted that he had survived, and had gained an artificial bloodline as a result.

Orochimaru ordered him trained, and this task was taken on by his former traitorous instructor. The man was kindly, and treated him much like a stern father, perhaps through some sense of guilt. For the next three years, Shiro played the game of deception. He was often sent on missions alongside his captors, and tasked to carry out gruesome deeds to test his loyalty. He never hesitated. His captivity had hardened him to what a ninja's life was like. If he was to have any chance of escape, he would have to gain their trust.

Despite his seeming loyalty, he was kept under sharp watch, but one day the hideout was discovered, and attacked by three squads of passing Leaf ninja. During the fighting, Shiro saw an opportunity, and much like the moment three years ago, turned on his former instructor, and drove a blade through the man's body.

Okido only gave him a small smile filled with regret. The man pulled him close, and whispered some words into his ear before collapsing. Shiro regarded the corpse before breaking away to surrender to his compatriots.

The Leaf shinobi regarded him with suspicion, but agreed to take him back to the village under the condition he was to be restrained with seals.

The village was much like he remembered it. The Third Hokage had given him a sorrowful look when he inquired eagerly about his mother. Mitero had passed away due to sorrow a year after his disappearance; leaving behind a letter should he ever return.

Shiro broke down, and cried bitterly as the village leader embraced him tenderly. Like any child, he had loved his mother dearly, and she was the sole occupation of his thoughts when he was in captivity. With nothing left, his life seemed meaningless.

After recounting his time of captivity, Shiro was given the option to live as a civilian or rejoin the shinobi ranks. He opted for the latter as that was all he ever knew, and would be good for. Plus it gave him a purpose. The Hokage tested him personally, and declared him jonin level, but Shiro requested the rank of a chunin with the exception that he could take any higher level mission without his rank barring him.

Despite wanting a simple bleak existence, he became known as one of the best solo chunin in the village. He completed all his missions spotlessly, but with a cold unfeeling demeanor, and ruthless precision. Worried about his mental state, Sarutobi decided to assign him to a team with two other chunin whom he had informed previously of their new teammate's past.

Kotetsu was a loud brash individual who often favored the direct approach while Izumo was milder, and more reserved. Together the pair made it their personal goal to drag their new teammate from his shell. Shiro detested them, and the day he flew at them in a murderous rage after being subjected to one of Kotetsu's particularly disruptive pranks was the day they declared their mission a success. The pair high fived each other as they fled from the furious chunin.

Granted they were now both thoroughly detested by their new teammate, but that could easily be worked around. As time went by, Shiro couldn't help but form an attachment with the two, and eventually they became his closest friends. But some scars run too deep to be cured. Though Shiro became noticeably lighter, and more open with expressing his emotions around those he trusted, he still possessed a merciless outlook in his work.

It was evening when the ship approached the barrier which hid the Shinobi Continent from Outside nations. Shiro could see the fleet of the Land of Fire forming a blockade. The barrier only had a few access points. Each of these gateways was heavily guarded by the Feudal Lord of the respective territory.

The barrier was a mystery to all. No one knew how it worked; it was said the Great Sage of Sixth Paths had created it to hide the Elemental Nations. Some theorized it was a massive illusion, others said it was a space time jutsu that pocketed the entire continent in another plane. Regardless of what was true, the world beyond the barrier was frightening. It showed them just how small, and vulnerable they were. The countries that existed beyond were superior in technology and size, but they lacked utterly the mystic power of Chakra.

Like a parasite, the Hidden Villages were quick to worm themselves into this new frontier. Shinobi acting as spies integrated themselves into the workings of this new world; from the lowliest worker to the highest seated politician. But the manpower required was just too much, thus forcing them to find allies who held seats of power in which they could confide in. These Outsiders were strictly watched, for if word was ever leaked about the Shinobi Nations, the result would be catastrophic.

Not long after gaining a foothold, a new world was discovered. One that was not all that strange to the shinobis; The world of Magic. The magical society operated much like the shinobis. They concealed themselves, and lived among their normal counterparts. They used an unknown energy source to perform feats much like chakra, but they could manipulate it in ways outside of combat which shinobi were unable to imitate. It didn't take long for the Hidden Villages to send in their spies. Already spread thin among the modern nations, this stretched their resources even more. Thus the presence they were able to establish was minor. It was a war of espionage on two fronts.

Shiro was somewhat acquainted with the Outside. A missing ninja had stolen valuable information from one of Konoha's couriers. Shiro was given the order to recover the information, and eliminate her. He tracked her to a harbor town, and interrupted an exchange between her, and some shinobi from the Hidden Stone. By the time he had cleaned up the foe, the rogue nin had escaped on a ship. He had the information, but the other part of his mission was still incomplete. Eliminate the thief.

It was then Shiro made the brash decision to pursue her on the spot. There was no time to waste on getting the permission papers to cross over the Outside. He left the information with a shinobi courier, along with a message of his whereabouts and goal. Then he found the captain of a smuggling vessel to ferry him past the blockade. He had managed to discover the name, and destination of his target's ship beforehand, and that was his first foray into the Outside.

It was a dogged four month pursuit, and Shiro was ready to give up several times. He chased her to a nation called Japan. The similarities between their cultures had astonished him. Could these people have voyaged from the Shinobi Continents Centuries ago? The new world had floored him, but he was fortunate that his shinobi outfit had immediately earned him the attention of friendly forces. He was filled in on the new functions of the modern world, and after a month was able to acquire with their assistance the location of his target; only for her to vanish upon storming her apartment.

Shiro tracked her across Japan, and finally in desperation she took a flight to a collection of nations called Europe. It was there Shiro was ready to admit defeat. The place was just too vast for him. But his stubbornness prevailed. It took him two months to get a good grasp on English, and while he studied, he searched for every possible clue to pick up his target's trail. No matter how good one was, there was always something overlooked, and eventually Shiro found her again. This time he had her. She was now living in a simple house in the countryside. Shiro cautiously infiltrated the homestead, and stopped dead. The little girl he found inside wasn't the one he was tracking. She screamed shrilly, and he felt a presence speed towards the cry.

Shiro turned in time to prepare himself as his target burst through the front door, and with murderous eyes clashed against him.

"Why can't you leave us alone?" she screamed at him, tears of rage, and desperation trailing from her eyes.

He gave no answer as he calmly deflected each blow patiently waiting for the opening that was sure to come in her emotional state, and when she lunged again, he sidestepped and slashed her wrist. As her sword clattered to the floor, he thrust his blade into her side. Not a fatal blow, he thought apathetically as he pulled the blade out, and aimed it at her heart.

"Leave my sister alone!" A young voice screamed at him tearfully. Shiro felt the little girl throw herself at his waist where she clung desperately, and beat him with tiny fists. "Please don't kill her. Don't hurt my sister," she begged, her words almost unintelligible.

Shiro stared down at the short form attached to him. He quickly placed a foot down on the discarded blade preventing his target from acquiring it during his distraction. The sight rustled the cold strings of his heart. Looking at the tearful face of the little girl, and the defiant one of his target, Shiro was reminded of the relationship he had with Naruto. The boy had filled the hole in his heart which his friends couldn't, the hole left by the death of his mother. He now had someone he could consider family.

With softened eyes, Shiro unclasped the fingers of the little sister, and retreated. "The information you stole, and attempted to sell to the Hidden Stone was to support your sister wasn't it?"

The older sister glared at him, but at last relented. "My sister had a bloodline, and my village was going to kill her because of it. I couldn't let that happen so I grabbed her, and we ran. It was chance when I came across your courier. I saw an opportunity to make the funds that would support us."

Shiro stared at her silently for a long time, before heaving a sigh, and giving a mirthless chuckle. "I chased you for four months in this strange world, and now I'm letting you live. This was not worth it."

He turned, and headed for the door.

"Wait!" The call stopped him at the doorway. He looked back to see her embracing her sister. "Thank you."

Shiro gave no response, and left. He made his way back to the Hidden Continents where he gave a falsified report to the Hokage. The old man had merely chuckled, and reprimanded him on it. Unknown to Shiro until now, the Hokage had tasked an Anbu level shinobi to shadow him in the Outside. The ninja had reported the entire event to him. Shiro flushed in embarrassment before straightening with concern, but the Hokage assured him that the girl he chose to spare had been left alone. Sarutobi asked him for his reason in sparing them, and listened quietly. Seeing Shiro still in possession of his humanity had filled him with gentle pride.

Now this would mark his second foray into the Outside, and into world he was unfamiliar with. Shiro felt the scroll in his vest that stored all the information it could hold regarding the Wizarding world. He looked back at his companions. Izumo was talking to the captain, and getting their papers ready to show the blockade officials. Kotetsu was lounging by the rails a short distance away, and finally Kakashi was seated on the deck, nose buried in an orange book. A slight smile crossed his face. Having his two friends with him eased the homesick pangs he felt. Would he return from this mission? He would try his best. He had no intention of leaving his foster brother alone like his mother had done to him.


	2. Chapter 2 Akida Of The Leaf

Emerging out into the expanse of sea near Japan, they proceeded straight into the Atlantic towards France for the coastal city of La Rochelle, the closest landing point near the capital city of Paris where their client was waiting. The voyage was completed with little flair. The only matter worth grumbling on was the captain not having stocked fresh supplies beforehand.

It was a total of ten days after exiting the barrier to reach La Rochelle. Shiro spent the time onboard studying wizarding culture with his teammates, and teaching them as much as English as they could learn in the short amount of time they had. To his initial surprise, Kakashi was the only one to make any notable process, and by the time they arrived, the jonin was speaking almost perfect English. Shiro couldn't help but feel a tiny bit miffed. It had taken him three months, and he still hadn't quite managed to get rid of his accent. Here Kakashi had mastered it in ten days while Kotetsu, and Izumo spoke well enough to make a pigeon wince. The Sharingan eye of the Uchiha clan hidden behind the jonin's slanted headband was no doubt the secret to the man's mastery.

The sun was high in the sky as they trooped off the gangplank. Shiro was glad to be on the move again. Idleness had the bad habit of shrouding his inner being in darkness. It was one of the reasons he was among the top shinobi for missions completed. Before he met Naruto, missions had been his sole lifeline. They kept him too occupied for reflection.

However he was confronted with one problem now. Where was the guide that was supposed to meet them?

Shiro scanned the quay along the harbor front. Most of the crowd consisted of sailors, and tourists. A number of curious looks were bestowed upon them or more specifically Kakashi. Under Shiro's direction, they had donned the white cloaks of Konoha to present a more inconspicuous appearance, but the jonin had steadfastly refused to remove his mask. With his silver hair that stuck up at all angles, and masked features, Kakashi was candy to all curious eyes. Shiro suppressed his annoyance. He knew it was irrational to view the crowd as possible threats, but as a ninja, attention was not something he relished, particularly in this foreign country.

"So what do we do?" Izumo asked him. The brown-haired chunin was drinking in the sights, his brown eyes practically sparkling.

Shiro slowly looked over the bustling quay once again. "We wait. If our guide doesn't show within the hour, we will proceed on our own. I already know our destination."

"Can we get something to eat first?" Kotetsu spoke up almost miserably. On queue his stomach rumbled.

Izumo pulled a face in remembrance of the voyage. "What kind of captain doesn't stock his ship with fresh supplies before a voyage?"

Shiro chuckled slightly. He briefly felt the wallet that held their mission expenses. The funds had already been converted to French currency. "Certainly. I'm hungry myself. Let's see if we can't find an eatery along this waterfront."

The place they eventually found didn't look all that appealing. It was more or less a space inside a ramshackle building. The interior was somewhat smoky, and filled with a rough looking crowd consisting of burly dock workers, and fishermen with the odd tourist. However the smell of fried food that emanated forth was good.

They entered the busy restaurant, and Shiro rapidly surveyed the interior for a secluded table. There was a place near the window. Most of the patrons had preferred the tables farther in. After they took their seats, Shiro caught the eyes of the lone waiter, and nodded. After a brief wait the strained waiter approached them.

His words were unintelligible.

"Can you understand English?" Shiro asked him. If the answer was no, they would have to find another place.

"Little," the man replied.

Shiro raised the menu which was entirely French. "Can you help us order?"

The waiter looked hesitant. "My English not vare good."

"I understand. Can you pick for us something simple? Fish?"

The man nodded, and tapped one of the sections. "Fish here. You want cooked how?"

"Fried. Fillet if possible." Shiro answered. He indicated the others who were watching curiously. Even Kakashi's one visible eye was peeking over the top of his book. "For all. Do you have steamed fish?"

"Oui," the waiter enunciated with a firm nod.

"We'll take that too. Do you have vegetables?"

"Small vegetable. This place seafood."

"Any vegetable is fine." The waiter nodded, and rapidly jotted more notes into his pad. Shiro trailed a finger over the menu again.

"Mussels, do you have them?"

"Oui," and the waiter pointed at the printed lines. "Today special."

"We'll order it."

The waiter tapped another line on the paper. "This is good shrimp soup. I recommend."

Shiro nodded. "We'll take it." He raised a single finger - "One large serving for all" –and gestured around the table. "Extra bowls." The waiter jotted down the last order, and hurried off.

"What did you order?" Kotetsu asked interestedly.

"Fish, mussels, shrimp soup, and whatever vegetables they have on hand." Shiro dutifully rattled of the list.

The spiky haired ninja sniffed the aromas wafting about eagerly. "After that time on the boat, I can't wait for a fresh meal. Salted meat that's so tough you'd need a wood-saw to cut it, and stale crackers you could break your teeth on are unfit for a growing shinobi like me." Kotetsu was practically salivating.

"Growing shinobi, if anything I'm the one entitled to that name," Shiro murmured with faint amusement.

"That's not all different to back home," Izumo commented. "I expected the food to be more exotic."

"It's a simple establishment," Shiro said as leaned back in an effort to appear nonchalant, and ignore the looks thrown their way.

As they sat waiting, the opening of the restaurant door caused Shiro to turn his head. The person that walked in was a young man with light brown hair, and a pair of glasses that had slightly squared lenses. Having once been to the Outside, Shiro could tell by his clothes that he looked to be the tourist type. He wore a cream coloured short sleeved shirt, and white shorts with a simple broad brimmed straw hat. His head turned towards them, and his emerald eyes locked onto Shiro's.

The young chunin tensed as he sensed something ominous in the contact. The man began walking towards him, eyes never straying, and a slight smile on his lips.

He can't be planning on attacking in the middle of a public spot, Shiro reasoned as he slowly shifted into a position to allow himself to react quickly if anything happened. The sight of the smile widening caused him to still. Did he notice that? Shiro glanced at companions. None seemed to be concerned. Kakashi still had the book in front of his face. If the jonin was so relaxed, then he was worrying for nothing. Shiro turned his gaze back to the approaching figure.

Do you need something?" He inquired politely as the man came up, but the hard note was clear.

The smile widened into a polite expression that somehow still oozed an unpleasant cunning. Shiro couldn't suppress the minor shiver his body involuntarily gave. It was too much like a certain sannin.

"Shiro is it? Shiro Inikaze, and his companions Kotetsu Hagane, Izumo Kamizuki, and Kakashi Hatake."

Shiro slightly narrowed his eyes at the man at the casualness used to address him. "Are you our guide?"

"I am. My name's Akida Torako, but call me Akida. The custom here is forename first. You don't mind if I call you Shiro do you?"

Something clicked in Shiro's mind. He now knew why his presence ignited that threatening feeling. He was being analyzed, and for a reason he couldn't identify. The newcomer hadn't even looked at the others around the table, his darkly shaded, jade coloured eyes remaining fixed on him.

Shiro partially relaxed inwardly. The name the Hokage had given him of the shinobi that would meet them matched. Outwardly he schooled his face back into a neutral expression.

"Why weren't you able to meet us at the docks?"

"I simply wasn't there at your time of landing," Akida replied. "I listened to the calling of my stomach, and left to purchase some food from a vendor. I overheard a couple talking about a strange group with a masked individual after I returned. It was quite simple to find you."

"You've grown Akida." Everyone looked in surprise at Kakashi who had spoken. The jonin had lowered his book, and was gazing at the arrival with his one visible eye.

"It's good to see you again Kaka-sensei."

"Kaka-sensei?" Kotetsu repeated in great surprise. "Kakashi-san actually took a genin team?"

"Not quite," Akida corrected. "As a whole my team failed his test, but individually I had grasped it though unconsciously. For that he trained for the first few weeks of repeating my year at the Academy."

"Too bad," Kotetsu said in a whisper to Izumo. "I was hoping Kakashi's infamous fail streak had ended."

"You couldn't have gotten much from a vendor," Shiro began. He indicted the only remaining chair at the table. "Would you care to join us for lunch?

"I'll be glad to. That meagre snack earlier was hardly filling." Akida seated himself and signaled the waiter. "Have you already ordered?" he inquired.

"Yes," Shiro answered. "Though our choices were limited due to the language barrier. "Can you speak the language?"

"Quite fluently. I've been stationed in this country for two years. Would you like me to assist in explaining the menu?"

Though Shiro declined, both Kotetsu and Izumo expressed a keen curiosity in the other dishes, and by the time their meal arrived, a few extra courses had been added. For a simple place, the food was quite good. Thought not a big eater, Shiro found himself sampling a bit of everything. The fried fish was garnished with some herbs that gave it a nice slightly sour tint. The mussels arrived steaming hot. The meat inside was as soft as velvet, and coupled with the spicy sauce that was served alongside, a delight to consume. Though pleasant, Shiro found the shrimp soup the least pleasing. However he enjoyed the fried crabs, and steamed clams Akida had ordered. What he particularly enjoyed was the steamed fish that was heavily garnished with various herbs, and a few vegetables. Fried seaweed topped the meal.

During the meal, his eyes flicked to Kakashi. How was he able to eat without removing his mask? It seemed that almost every time he looked, a portion on the jonin's plate would be missing, but Kakashi would still have that book in front of his face. Even the others were casting the jonin furtive glances, but none could catch the wily jonin. Shiro was certain he was smiling.

Wanting to test a sudden theory, he expanded his senses towards Kakashi's form. Chakra sensing was one of his innate skills. He was right. There was a subtle concentration of chakra around Kakashi. Being a frequent user of Genjutsu, Shiro recognized it as a low level illusion technique. So that was the trick. He met Kakashi's lone eye, and the jonin winked at him.

Despite the light atmosphere, Shiro found himself unable to relax. His thoughts were on Akida. He flicked his eyes towards the Leaf ninja and caught him in the act of another stare. Akida merely smiled coyly, and returned to his food.

Why was the man so focused on him? Despite his feelings, Shiro kept his expression, and demeanor neutral. The rule of: A shinobi must never display emotion, helped to keep people from reading him. Jaded as his ninja life had made him, it wasn't like he had much emotion to begin with.

After the meal, Akida insisted on paying the bill. "Consider it your welcome to the Outside," the Leaf ninja said cheerfully. However when the bill arrived it turned out to be far greater than what he could pay. Shiro ended up settling the amount while Akida laughed half in embarrassment.

"Where to now?" Shiro asked as they all stood outside the restaurant.

Akida checked his wrist watch. "Now I'll take you to Paris. My van is parked a short walk away."

They followed him away from the waterfront, and into the narrow confines of the city. The whole design was cramped. Buildings were all squeezed together along every street with little regard for looks. The city was like a poor packing attempt. Compared to the wide, and orderly streets of Konoha, it had a suffocating condensed feel that left Shiro feeling uneasy.

In response to a question by Kotetsu, Shiro pointed out a car parked in the narrow streets, and gave a brief explanation on the subject. Izumo promptly joined in, and Shiro found himself beset by two chunin, eager to learn the workings of this world.

When they reached the van, Shiro opted for seating himself in the back compartment with Kakashi. The front passenger seat was claimed by Izumo with Kotetsu situated behind him. Akida seated himself at the wheel.

"All comfortable?" he called.

Shiro wasn't. The entire space was bare save for a little curved rise on both sides which he assumed was a seat. However it was so narrow he was barely able to seat himself. The sides of the van were ribbed with inlets, and beams that supported the compartment structure. In the end he chose to seat himself in the back corner from where he could keep a comfortable eye on the back of Akida's head if needed Kakashi chose to stretch himself out on the floor, using his vest as a makeshift pillow.

"We're fine," Shiro acknowledged. Akida gave him a last fleeting look before turning back to the wheel.

"It's going to be a long drive," the Leaf ninja warned. "About five hours to reach Paris, excluding the time to reach our base of operations."

Shiro gave no answer choosing to close his eyes, and rest his head on his breast as the engine flared to life. He was fatigued. The previous night had been beset with restlessness, and dark dreams. Shiro had jolted awake at midnight, and found himself unable to sleep again. He spent the remainder of the time quietly practicing chakra control until the captain had announced their arrival.

Shiro's eyes suddenly snapped open. His breathing was heavy, and he could feel something in his eyes. He raised his head, and looked about in confusion. What had happened? Why did everything seem so confusing? It was like his memories were all blurring into one, and he couldn't distinguish what was the past, and present.

Whatever was in his eyes, started to trickle from his left orb. It was a tear he realized. His mind regained its clarity, and he realized the scene he had been experiencing was just a dream. Shiro clenched a fist, and for a moment, almost broke down as he thought of his mother. He quickly wiped the tears away, and violently suppressed his feelings. Kakashi was still stretched out reading his book, and Izumo, and Kotetsu were too focused on the sights to notice his movement. Shiro peered at the cockpit. From the little he could see at his position, it seemed like they were in a city. He still couldn't quite believe it. It felt like he had barely closed his eyes.

"Akida?" Shiro called.

His two friends turned about surprised.

"Oh you're awake Shiro?" Kotetsu asked.

"Clearly, Ko," Shiro responded drily.

"I can't tell if that's your usual sharpness or whether you had another bad dream," the spiky chunin retorted. He peered at him closer. "Your eyes have a wet sheen to them."

"Don't ask," Shiro said allowing a little weariness to coat his tone. "Just the usual."

"Yes, Shiro?" Akida called seeing they were done. The other ninja hadn't taken his eyes off the road.

"Did we arrive?"

"No, the Leaf Center is still a few minutes away, but we're in Paris."

"You were sleeping this whole time," Izumo added.

"It certainly didn't feel that way." Shiro shifted his position with a sigh. "I feel… as tired as I was before."

"That'll change quick enough," Akida said. "Your body just needs to register the change."

Shiro leaned back against the van doors and looked at his two friends. "How are you two enjoying the sights?" he asked to distract them. He could see the subtle worry in their faces.

"Amazing!" Kotetsu said immediately. "And this is just one of several cities of one country?"

"It's worrying," Izumo spoke up. "I don't know the scale of this world, but if it's anything like what we've seen, there's no hope in a war with them."

"That's why a number of our shinobi here," Shiro answered. "If encounter an enemy you can't beat, you study, and subvert him. I've been to this world before, and I doubt we'd get anywhere near reasonable strength for many decades. That's why we infiltrate their ranks, establish our own businesses, control their politicians, and quietly eliminate anyone who gets in our way."

"And let me tell you," Akida interrupted, "that most of that is just glorified. We have to be careful how we operate here to avoid detection. The intelligence groups these Outsiders have can be quite irritating. They're sharper than we initially gave them credit for. As such life has gotten very boring for me. I haven't had much of an opportunity to apply my skills apart from a few espionage missions, and hunting down the occasional missing nin that flees from the Homeland. However your arrival proves to be an interesting occasion for me."

"Why is that?" Shiro asked despite his bad feeling towards the next words.

"I think you can guess." Akida's tone was humorous, and almost snippy.

The atmosphere in the van seemed to plummet. Shiro felt his skin grow cold before he shook it off. He looked at his two friends, and shook his head. 'It's fine' he said silently. Aloud he said, "We're not certain Orochimaru is even here. If that's the case, your mission will very well turn out to be a year of baby sitting.

"It might," Akida responded in a playful tone. "Or it might not. Even if the sannin doesn't show, you're mission is still to protect some wizard's daughter. And in that case, there's still possibility for excitement. I might even get to apply my specialization. And if anything, this baby sitting applies to you as well."

"What is your specialization?"

"I'm an interrogator. I specialize in persuading people to be forthcoming with information they would normally not release." Akida chuckled loudly, but the hungry, almost longing resonance in his tone said enough. So there was the darker side to this pleasant, if slightly disrespectful ninja.

Shiro fell silent as he reflected on his reason for coming to this world. Officially he was only here because he was chosen to fulfill a mission contracted by a French wizard. Unofficially, he was bait.

It was nothing new at first. Shinobi had abducted wizards and the bizarre creatures of their world before to find out their secrets, but the number had always been unnoticeable. An occasional disappearance here and there the Magical Authorities would pass off as an unsolved case. But ever since Leaf spies had reported the Snake sannin on a ship for the Outside, the disappearances had been piling up throwing the entire magical society into an uproar. A Hokage summit was held, and each of the villages denied any involvement. The summit ended with the agreement of a truce between their Outside forces, and cooperation towards each other to find Orochimaru and eliminate him before their existence could be compromised.

Shiro subconsciously felt his neck. It was the reason the Hokage had chosen him. Because he had been the Sannin's prize experiment, and was still unmarked. He had been lucky that Orochimaru was rarely seen about the facility; being continuously busy with other projects. If the base hadn't been attacked, the sannin might have decided he was ready enough, and marked him when he next arrived.

That was also why the Hokage had assigned Kakashi to guard him. Not only for his superior skills, but for the one thing Orochimaru craved more than anything else; The Sharingan eye. Essentially it was a double bait. Orochimaru's greed for power would overcome his caution, and when he took the bait, they would kill him. For extra caution, a team of Outside shinobi were to assist them.

Kotetsu, and Izumo had been furious at the Hokage when they found out, but somewhat calmed after Shiro mentioned that he had been free to decline. It was personal vengeance that drove him to accept; to make the man pay for all he had put him through. Of course they had insisted on coming. The pair marched into the Hokage tower, and demanded to be put on the mission roster. Shiro couldn't deny the security he felt at having his friends with him, but he also felt dread. What if Orochimaru took the bait? They weren't a match for the Sannin, he doubted any of them were save for Kakashi, and whoever else that was part of the Outside squad. He clenched his jaw. He'd die before he'd let that snake take any of his friends.

Akida's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"We're here."


	3. Chapter 3 Paris

Shiro stepped out of the van onto the sidewalk by a road that was relatively free of traffic. As it was evening, the streetlights were lit, and the windows of the buildings shone with warm light giving the city a sparkling glow. The darkness was rejuvenating to his spirit. Shiro looked up, memories of leaping through the air from rooftop to rooftop back in Konoha flowing through his mind. The thought of home reminded him with a pang on just how long this mission truly was.

But he wasn't alone, the chunin noted with comfort as his two friends emerged from the van their eyes eagerly drinking in the sights. Kakashi appeared next, his book finally tucked away. Though the traffic was slow, there were still a number of citizens walking the streets. Shiro noted the elegance of their clothing, and the type of buildings that lined the wide road. They were in a wealthy shopping district it seemed, and entertainment he added in an afterthought on spotting some restaurants.

One final bang of the van doors signaled Akida's appearance. Shiro acknowledged the other ninja with a fleeting look before facing away to stare disinterestedly across the road.

"Where are we?"

"Where you're supposed to be," Akida answered. "Our Headquarters for operations in this country is straight ahead of you."

Straight ahead? Shiro looked across the road, and blinked. He was staring at a restaurant, and a sizable one at that. Through the arched window panes decorated with red drapes, and round teapot lanterns that hung outside, he could spot well-dressed diners enjoying their dinner, and chatting amiably with each other.

"A restaurant?"

"A very popular one at that," Akida said walking forward and stopping alongside him. "It wasn't meant to be a serious business at first. However it eventually grew in popularity, and the decision was made to adopt the business. It's become a favorite nesting spot for some of the big wigs of France."

"So I was right. It is a pit of snakes."

Shiro felt Akida turn, and stare at him for a moment before chuckling. "You're like me in that aspect."

Sensing a dark note in his voice, Shiro gave the special jonin a sideways gaze. Akida met his eyes with a smile. "I have my reasons to dislike officials, and anything related. What about you?"

"Like you, I have my reasons." Shiro gave him a brief searching expression. "But I think they have less weight than yours."

Akida flashed another smile at him, and cocked his head while his eyes roved up and down his cloaked frame. "You'd make a good interrogator. Have you been trained in the subject?"

"Basic training. It was enough for most purposes."

A partially hidden gleam illuminated the tokubetsu jonin's eyes with excitable fervor. "I wonder had you been an enemy that fell into my hands, how long it would take you to break. Have you any torture resistance?"

Akida seemed oblivious to the looks given by Shiro's teammates. The young chunin faced the other ninja fully. "My time with Orochimaru was enough to develop it naturally."

Akida turned away with a satisfied expression.

"If you are fantasizing over torturing me," Shiro narrowed his eyes. "Should I be troubled?"

"You're a fellow Leaf ninja, I wouldn't dream of harming you." Akida laughed a moment later. "Well I would, but then torture is like a physical attraction. Just like a man would fantasize over physical intimacy with a woman he finds attractive, so does an interrogator lust over a victim that is hard to break. And I think you'd be very hard to break. Now follow me."

"How is that fellow not under watch?" Kotetsu muttered staring after Akida's form.

"He seems slightly unstable," Izumo said with narrowed eyes. "But-"

"Slightly?" Kotetsu interrupted in exclamation. "Who tells someone you're going to be working with that you'd like to torture them. That's twisted."

"But," Izumo continued as if he hadn't heard. "If he's been chosen to be part of the squad that will assist us, then he must be trustworthy. Also he was Kakashi-san's student. For a brief while."

"He was a child then." The white haired jonin said eliciting several surprised looks. During the whole time had been with them, the jonin had been mostly silent. "He could have changed. He has changed."

"That's comforting," Kotetsu snorted. "Still, he'd have to be loose to try anything with us around, and his teammates. Wait, he is loose. What do you think, Shiro?"

Shiro smiled amused. Wanting to provoke a reaction from the brash spiky haired ninja, he reached out in an attempt to ruffle Kotetsu's hair much like he did to Naruto. The other ninja immediately batted his hand away with an indignant huff to Izumo's chuckle.

"I have no intention of lowering my guard around anybody, friend or foe. But it's too early to worry. The mission hasn't even started."

"You do make an exception for us right?"

"Yes, Ko. You, Izumo, and Iruka are the ones I fully trust."

"What about me?"

It was Kakashi. The jonin's visible eye was half crinkled in a smile, but Shiro perceived honest curiosity for his answer.

"I trust you as a fellow Leaf ninja, and to watch my back in battle, that's all."

"Maaa Shiro-kun. You're harsh." His eye lost its playful gleam. "Akida is waiting."

The whole group looked across the street at where the interrogator stood watching them with his head cocked, and a small smile.

"Yeah," Kotetsu grumbled. "We should be moving. Don't want to keep our loose screw waiting lets he decide to screw us."

"That was terrible, Ko," Shiro told him promptly, shutting down the man's hopeful grin. Izumo clicked his tongue, and shook his head slowly.

After glancing both ways down the street, they across to where Akida was waiting.

"Have you been talking behind my back?" the jonin interrogator asked with a playful smirk. "I couldn't notice those dark looks."

"Of course not," Shiro answered. "We wouldn't dream of doing so."

Still wearing his smile, Akida patted him on the shoulder twice before moving past. The jonin interrogator led them into the restaurant through a side door.

"Are the staff here our own?" Shiro inquired as they walked down a corridor passing the active kitchen in the process.

"Yes." Akida answered. "It brings far less questions on who are all these people that go keep entering the place."

After emerging into a broad hallway that seemed to be fairly close to dining room, judging from the murmur of voices, Akida directed them into a small compartment. At his touch, a hidden switch showed itself. Upon pressing it, the compartment rumbled suddenly before the shinobi felt it moving downwards.

"Welcome to our Headquarters in France," the jonin interrogator announced as the elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. "You'll find the size a bit overwhelming compared to the amount of personnel about. We're a bit understaffed here, and a lot of the shinobi you'll meet are only here to collect missions or deliver reports."

The room on the other side indeed seemed far too large in comparison to the meager amount of personal about. The room was much like the Mission Center in the Hokage tower. Several shinobi in grey fatigues sat around the crescent table sorting through stacks of paper. A short way off was a section walled in by glass where three more shinobi seated at desks working at computers. Everything seemed almost silent, dead, bare.

"The door ahead on the other side of the room leads to a hallway that connects to our Archive Center, Armoury, and Interrogation room." Akida continued. "To the left is our resting lounge. That door on the far right leads to the personal quarters."

"This is a very dreary atmosphere," Shiro commented looking about.

"That's how it is. We can't afford the extra manpower. Our forces are already spread thin trying to keep pace with this world. Now with the discovery of the Magical world, we're spread even thinner trying to infiltrate two fronts, not to mention the latest development with Orochimaru. We're trying to compensate by adopting young orphans, and training them in our ways."

"That could pose a problem." Shiro gave a slight frown at the idea. "These children won't have the same loyalty ingrained in them than if they were born in the village."

"That's why we take the very young ones. They're much easier to mold. We also never reveal the existence of our homeland to them. The only other option is to request more forces from home, but we can't leave the village weak. At least these new frontiers are keeping the peace between the villages, for now anyway. We have too many of our shinobi on the Outside for any village to afford a war. And if we're discovered here, it's over for all of us, so mutual cooperation is required."

"It won't last," Shiro stated. "There will always be forces at play looking to bring about conflict."

"Like Orochimaru?"

Shiro gave the jonin who was wearing an innocent expression, a dark look. Akida led them into the lounge that was even barer than the main room. There was only one person seated at one of the few tables about. Shiro recognized him immediately. It was one of the shinobi that had briefly assisted him the first time he had set foot in the Outside. Hiraku Kanayama.

The grey haired man looked in their direction upon entry. There were a few wrinkles on his face that otherwise remained lean; a testimony to his fitness. He was of middle age, with his hair done up in the traditional samurai ponytail.

"So you brought our guests, Akida," he said rising to his feet. He peered at Shiro as they approached. "I remember you."

"So do I." Shiro dipped his head in greeting. "Hello again, Hiraku-san."

"How do you know him, Shiro?" Izumo asked.

"He was one of the shinobi that assisted in familiarizing myself with the Outside when I was chasing that missing nin."

"You learned the basics, and the language quickly," Hiraku complimented him. "And call me Hiraku or by my first name. Customs are different here, and I don't care for the respectful affixes."

"As you wish, Hiraku."

"Who are the rest of your team?"

"This is Kamizuki Izumo," Shiro said indicating the brown haired ninja, "and he is Hagane Kotetsu. The last is-"

"Hatake Kakashi." The middle aged jonin finished. "Who hasn't heard of the famous copy cat ninja." He turned back to Shiro. "As you might guess, the Hokage tasked me with accompanying you. Per his instructions, I will be under your command. You have already met Akida. The last two members are currently out. They'll be back eventually. In the meantime, make yourselves comfortable. I'll have dinner brought down, and I can show you your rooms if you wish to rest."

"What can you tell me of a French wizard named Jean Claude Delacour?" Shiro asked.

"Ah, your client. We have a complete file on him in our archives here. Shall I fetch it?"

"That would be appreciated. Is it possible to meet with him now? I'd prefer it if I could proceed with the mission."

Hiraku checked his wrist watch. "That can be possible, but I don't recommend it. It's currently seven thirty. His residence is about a three hour drive from here. It'll be a late hour to visit someone. You'll be better visiting him tomorrow."

Shiro nodded with disappointment. "Then his file will have to do.

Haraku eyed him silently. "You're tense." The jonin stated, but he didn't pursue the matter. "Stop at the armory. Your gear will need a little changing to deal with these wizards. Akida will fill you up. I will fetch Delacour's file in the meantime.

"Thank you."

Hiraku nodded. "Akida take them to the armory, and outfit them," he directed.

"Yes Kanayama. This way."

The armory was a small storage space packed with lockers, a few racks, and some crates. Shiro found himself staring at the weapons on display.

"You use firearms," he stated more than asked.

"This is not the Shinobi Continents," Akida answered as he busied himself with checking the tags on the crates. "We can't afford to cling to our old ways if we want to keep up here. The only times we use our abilities are in places we are certain we won't be seen. There are unwanted eyes everywhere. Do you want to keep your old vest?"

Shiro raised a brow at him questioningly.

"We've changed our uniforms according to which group we're dealing with," The special jonin clarified. "For magic, we use these vests." Akida abandoned the crates, and walked to a locker from which he pulled a vest of similar design to the ones currently worn by Shiro, and his group.

The vest was dark green, and much thinner plus it lacked the shoulder padding. It had various symbols across it that connected with each other in weaving patterns. The scroll pouches that were normally on the chest were now positioned diagonally on the sides of where the ribs would be. Unlike the standard leaf vest, the top ends were open allowing the user to quickly grab the needed scroll. In addition, the neck-guard was missing.

"Since wizards don't fight with physical weaponry, we've lowered the protection of these vests, and made them easier to wear. We've also added a special seals to counter magic. We've discovered that when their magic makes contact with our chakra, the effect is nullified, however the chakra required to dissipate their spells depends on the strength of the spell. You don't want to block their attacks using chakra or you'll find yourself drained before the battle really begins. That's why we developed these seals. Each seal on the vest allows you to store part of your chakra. When you are hit with a spell, the seals will automatically activate using the chakra stored to absorb the magic."

"So it's much like a limited substitution jutsu," Kotetsu said.

"Yes, if you want to look at it that way," Akida agreed. "The vests have already been filled with chakra, but anytime a seal is drained, it is recommended to fill it again with your chakra if you are in a safe spot. These vests have a limit of five seals. It takes about one average offensive spell to drain a seal."

Shiro stared at the new vest. On one hand he couldn't deny the usefulness if he ever got into a fight with a wizard, but on the other, he was loath to relinquish the standard uniform he had worn for years.

"And what vest do you use for dealing with the common Outsiders?" he asked.

Akida closed the locker, and opened another one. "We use these. We've modified the so called Kevlar vests used by Outsiders, and adapted the material into our own design."

The vest shown was again the classic green of the Leaf. Like the magical counterpart, it lacked the standard neck-guards, and the extra padding around the shoulders was gone. It was also much thinner, and bare of any pouches.

Shiro felt the new vest. "This looks too thin to protect against blades."

"Kevlar is surprisingly resilient, but you are right. Against any clean slash, or thrust, the vest is useless, but it's suitable against small blades, and firearms. Remember we don't fight using our old methods here. We wear it under our clothes for most operations. Our clothes also have protective fibers interwoven in the cloth. Now this-" Akida withdrew a third vest, "is what we wear for the combat heavy missions."

The third vest was the most akin in looks to the standard Leaf one. The neck-guard was back, and a large array of pouches were situated on the vest.

"We use this vest for missions that have a high risk of firefights. The many pouches allow us to carry ammunition, and the thick Kevlar design protects us from bullets. Now if you want to keep your design, I can create the seals on your vest, but it will take at least an hour, and I won't be able to fill them all with chakra."

"That's fine," Shiro said. "I have plenty of time to fill it with my own chakra."

"You'll have to use a lot," Akida warned. "Filling up one seal takes about a quarter of your chakra."

Shiro nodded, and took off his vest. Akida took it, and looked at the others questioningly. Izumo shook his head.

"I'm sure they are nice to wear, but I am comfortable with my old vest."

Kotetsu voiced his agreement while Kakashi lazily waved his hand. Akida shook his head with an amused smile.

"You Homeland shinobi are all the same. Take off your vests, and place them over there if you want me to add the seals."

Shiro took off his vest while Kotetsu, and Izumo followed his example. However Kakashi declined the protection. The white haired jonin left the room silently. Akida collected their vests, and then scurried off much like a burglar clutching his loot leaving Shiro alone with his two friends.

"So these are what guns look like," Kotetsu murmured as he began inspecting the weapons.

Shiro snorted. "I won't deny their effectiveness, but they are far too noisy."

"I've heard you can silence them."

"Even with a silencer, a shinobi with keen hearing can still detect the burst of air as the weapon fires." Shiro fell silent for a moment. "I don't like this world," he confessed. "It feels… too different than what I am used to."

"I understand what you mean," Izumo said. "it is completely different, but I find it exciting.

A sudden click snatched their attention towards the weapon rack. Shiro blinked once with surprised eyes before snickering. "You are lucky, Ko that those guns aren't loaded. What you just pressed was the trigger. Remember that when you feel about, and don't ever point the muzzle at yourself."

"I'm not that brash," Kotetsu protested.

"I think the word you meant was stupid," his friend jabbed humorously.

"Shut it, Izu."

Shiro chuckled. "So what do you plan on doing to pass the time?"

Kotetsu replaced the rifle he had been examining. "Izumo, and I are planning on having Hiraku give us a tour of the city. Do you want to join us, Shiro?"

The young chunin shook his head. "I'll pass. I've got information to study."

"Always with the business mindset."

"A city is nothing new to me. I've been here once already. I know how this world works. A city is just that. A place of structures, and people."

Kotetsu waved a hand at him. "Details, Shiro. You are generalizing things. When it comes to sights, it's the details that count."

Shiro cracked a smile at him. "True, but in any case, I won't be going."

The armory door opened, and Hiraku appeared holding a brown folder. "Here's the file. If you need any more information, you can ask me or the Archive manager."

Shiro took the folder with a brief word of thanks.

"Hiraku, my teammates wish to see the city. Would you mind entertaining them?"

"No, I wouldn't. Before that though, would you like dinner?"

Shiro shook his head. "I'll skip dinner." He looked at his two friends. "I'll be in the Archives."

Following Akida's directions, Shiro found the Archive center easily enough. It was much like a library with rows of shelves divided into labeled sections. Shiro found a table, and busied himself with studying his client's file. There also some pictures in the folder. Shiro briefly studied the one that was his client. Jean Delacour was man in his early forties with black hair, and a small elegant moustache. His eyes shone with an honest passion. The next pictures however momentarily stunned him. For a long moment he held his breath as he gazed at the utterly beautiful women shown.

Finally regaining himself, Shiro flicked through the rows of text in the file before staring at the pictures again. So that was Delacour's wife. His eyes lingered on the next picture. And that was the objective of his mission. Shiro raised the photograph staring at the beautiful girl depicted in it. That must be Fleur Delacour, his client's daughter which he was going to guard. Shiro swallowed slightly, before suddenly flicking the picture back into the folder. The sight of her had made him feel like a young boy entranced at the sight of a girl. His mouth curled into a slight sneer at the thought. His client's file mentioned that they were of a different race.

Shiro abandoned the table to comb the Archive for information related to the subject. After a brief search, he found the information. The Veela were semi-human magical beings. The most prominent trait was their otherworldly beauty which acted as an allure that was known to be almost irresistible to males.

Shiro replaced the information. The picture alone had invoked feelings a shinobi shouldn't have, and that was a mere picture. "Kami," he muttered. He'd be spending an entire year besides her in person?

"Oi Shiro?"

Shiro perked his head. Kotetsu was calling him. Making his way towards the calls, he found the brash chunin with Izumo.

"There you are." Kotetsu exclaimed upon his appearance. "We're going to be leaving now to see the city. Dinner was fantastic. We brought you some."

Shiro gave the plate that lay on the table a dispassionate glare. "Thanks, Ko. See that the both of you enjoy yourselves."

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Quite sure," Shiro assured him with a smile. "I much prefer focusing on a mission than spending my time in enjoyment."

A slightly sober expression dawned in the eyes of both his friends. There was a reason he was like that.

"Make sure you eat though."

Shiro waved them off. "Yes, I will. I'll have the both of you on my back if I don't."

"Too right!" Kotetsu declared with a laugh. Shiro bid them goodbye with a smile. He stared at the empty space of their presence not wanting to release the moment of camaraderie just yet. Eventually he returned to his work.

So his client's daughter must be threatened in some way if he was tasked to protect her. Shiro tapped a finger on the table in thought. Jean's file had mentioned the name of another prominent wizard he was on bad terms with; Alphonse Moreau. Shiro got up, and searched the aisles again. He found Moreau's file easily enough. The Leaf certainly had been busy with information. With Moreau's file in hand, he returned to his seat.

How long he sat there, he didn't know. Everything was silent like the inside of a crypt. Occasionally he caught faint snatches of audio of the other shinobi moving about their work. Finally Shiro leaned back. He pushed files in front of him away. Just how many times had he gone over the same thing? Ten? No, it must have been a lot more. Shiro stared dully at the table in depressive silence. He could only pour over a document so many times before it lost its effect.

The door swung open. Shiro raised his eyes, and gave an inner grimace. Akida's smirking features met him. The other jonin was carrying his vest. Akida walked towards him, and placed the vest face down on the table allowing him to see seals engraved on the back.

"I've filled two of the seals already. The rest is your job now."

Shiro gave him a surprised look. "Thank you." He reequipped the vest feeling a sense of security. Meanwhile Akida was studying the papers he had on the table.

"How many times have you gone over these?"

"Enough to remember everything. What gave you the impression?"

Akida surveyed him slyly. "I marked the time you entered the Archive. It's been nearly two hours. If this is all you've been looking at, you must be a very dedicated shinobi."

Shiro gave no response, and leaned forward pulling Delacour's file towards him again. Akida's hand suddenly stopped the paper. Shiro met his eyes in a quiet challenge.

"Instead of scouring an empty well in the futile hopes for non-existent water, why not pay a visit to Delacour's estate?"

"I'd be more than pleased if it wouldn't be past midnight when we arrive."

Akida smiled. "But that doesn't matter does it as long as you have something to do?" Shiro stared at him silently. "It's either sit there in the hopes of an antidote that's already run its course, or find another one. I'll get the van ready shall I?"

Without waiting for a response, Akida left the room. Shiro slumped back in his seat with a frown. Was he really that easy to read? Or was it merely because the other had years of experience in the matter. To be analyzed correctly by someone he was leery of was unsettling, but Shiro couldn't deny the restlessness he felt. Sleep was out of the question, and sitting in silence pouring over information he had memorized was no longer keeping the demons of his past at bay. It was an easy decision to make. Though Shiro didn't relish the thought of being in the other ninja's company, it was better than the alternative.

He returned the information he collected, and set off after Akida.


	4. Chapter 4 Jean Claude Delacour

**AN:** I know that it has been too long since I last posted a chapter to this story. Things have been busy to say the least. I've gained some free time so here is the next chapter. You might notice Shiro mentions topics regarding the Ministry election that did not appear in the last chapter. I am currently doing a little rewriting and will be adding some extra dialogue between him and Akida in chapter 3. I'll update it when I post chapter 5.

* * *

"Monsieur Delacour?" After briefly knocking, a young maid poked her head through the door.

A fine featured man in his forties looked up surprise. "Camille, I did not expect to see you still up. Is everything all right?"

"Well Monsieur, someone is wanting to see you."

"At this hour?" Jean Claude Delacour asked in puzzlement.

"Yes Monsieur. He is quite young and doesn't speak our language. He says he has business with you."

Business this late? Jean thought in confusion. "Well where is he?"

"At the gates."

Jean stood up from his chair and walked over to one of the windows in his personal study. Drawing aside the curtains he spotted a dark figure standing patiently outside the gate.

"Bring him in. I am curious as to what he could want with me."

"Yes Monsieur Delacour."

"Camille, how did you find him?"

"Through the windows of one of the rooms. I couldn't sleep so I thought to get an early start on cleaning."

"How did you get into contact with him?"

"I went out to the gates, Monsieur."

Jean turned to look over his shoulder in surprise. "Why?"

"I wondered why he was at the gates. At first thought he might be a possible thief but after watching him a while, it didn't look like that. So I went out to personally chase him away."

Jean laughed. "I didn't know I had such a fierce watchdog among my staff," he said causing the maid to smile embarrassedly but with pleasure. "Please bring him up."

Jean turned back to the window. Was it his imagination, or was the figure staring at him? It was difficult to tell with how dark it was. He waited at the window a while longer until he saw the form of his maid walking down the driveway. Then he returned to his desk and seated himself. However with this newest development, Jean found himself unable to concentrate so he merely sat waiting for his curious visitor to arrive.

"Come in," he called when knocking once again sounded on his door. As it opened and Camille's voice could be heard directing his unknown guest inside, Jean stood to greet him with a welcoming smile adorning his weary face.

A young boy in a full bodied cloak stepped through the door. His black hair was mostly covered with a bandana that bore a plate of metal on the front with a symbol etched into it.

"Welcome," Jean greeted him in warmly in English hoping to dispel his fears. "My maid tells me that you have business with me yet I can't recall ever seeing you before. Camille?" he called to the maid who still stood outside the door watching. "Could you please bring some refreshments?"

After she had left, Jean indicated a chair. "Please sit and make yourself comfortable. Then you can tell me what business you have with me."

"Thank you, but I'd much rather stand for now," Came the response in soft polite voice. There was a slight accent that implied English was not his native tongue.

"As you wish," Jean assented as he retook his seat. "So what business could you possibly have with me at this hour?"

His guest briefly looked about before sliding out of his cloak and neatly folding it across the proffered seat. Then he delivered a short bow.

"My name is Shiro Inikaze, the shinobi sent in regard to the protection mission you requested for your eldest daughter."

For several moments Jean sat too surprised to speak as he stared at his young guest.

"You were not expecting someone so young were you?" His guest chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "I assure you I am capable for the task or I would not have been selected."

Without his cloak, Jean had a chance to take him in. The apparel he wore was odd even for muggle standards, but compared to the decorative robes wizard wore, quite eye catching. His outfit seemed to consist of a long sleeved black shirt with matching pants. The shirt was hidden by a curious green vest and he had a row of pouches attached to his belt. He also caught a glimpse of a red emblem on the shoulder sleeves.

"I have difficulty believing that," Jean remarked with some sharpness. Before he could formulate a reply, his guest walked forward.

"For someone in your position you should know not to judge a book by its cover." There was a small clink as something was deposited on his desk. Jean looked down in confusion at an oddly shaped dagger. He looked back up and momentarily froze in place as he was met with quite a different expression from his visitor.

Hard brown eyes, cold and emotionless; withered by experience locked with his. "Were you not my client but my target, you'd be dead right now; killed by someone you didn't assume to be a threat."

His tone had changed at well. It was no longer gentle and polite, but hollow and emotionless. Jean sat momentarily frozen in surprise and unease. He swallowed uncomfortable. The detached yet focused stare made him feel like prey being sized up. He had never seen such empty eyes before.

To his relief, the expression of his guest faded back to his previous bearing. Feeling his breath flow again, Jean gave an uncertain chuckle. "Do you make the habit of scaring your clients?" the Delacour head asked jokingly.

A polite smile was flashed at him. "Not in general. However it wouldn't do to have a client doubting me, particularly when he's going to be paying a large sum."

"How old are you?" Jean asked carefully.

"Seventeen." Shiro answered.

Jean opened his mouth and closed it again. On the one hand, he wanted to dismiss this as a joke, on the other he remembered the cold empty stare that bespoke of experience that he didn't care to know.

"I made my first kill when I was seven," Shiro spoke. "Yes Mr. Delacour," He added at the shocked look. "It's no joke. I've been trained to kill since I was six. I may be young, but I'm experienced."

Silence fell between them. To imagine a child had gone through such a dark process, it was beyond sobering. Just what kind of brutal mindset did this group possess to do such a thing? Jean shifted uncomfortable trying to think of something to say. Meanwhile Shiro was gazing calmly at him waiting for a response.

"Well then, do you know why you are here?" Jean slapped himself inwardly. What a stupid a thing to say. Of course he knew. His guest made no effort to hide the amused tilt of his lips.

"Yes, of course you do," Jean continued before he could say anything. "But first I wish to know though what you were doing so late outside my mansion."

"I arrived in Paris this evening. When I reached your residence it was past normal visiting hours so I resolved to spend the night outside and call upon you in the morning. Your servant spotted me and came to demand that I leave the premises. Fortunately for me, she had seen you enter your study so I was able to persuade her for a meeting."

"But why did you choose to settle outside my property? There are many hotels you could have rented."

"For the same reason you hired me."

Jean gave him a look. "What do you mean by that?"

"Like you are concerned for your daughter, I was concerned for yours so I resolved to spend the night watching your residence."

"I don't understand," Jean said puzzled. "Why would you be concerned for me?"

A dry look was leveled at him. "This contract is worth a lot to my organization. It wouldn't do to have harm befall the client. Are you not suspicious about the sudden death of the prime candidate for the next Minster of Magic election?"

Jean shot him a sharp glance. "How do you know about that?" he demanded.

Shiro smiled innocently. "Information is very important to us shinobi. We have our ears in a lot of places. Jean Claude Delacour, Official in the French Ministry of Magic. Husband to half Veela Apolline, and has two daughters, Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour, both quarter Veela. You are also on very bad terms with the only remaining candidate, Alphonse Moreau."

Jean leaned backwards. "For someone who's just arrived, you know a lot."

"That is just general information easily gotten," Shiro said dismissively. "It's the details that I don't know. So tell me why the request for protection. Who or what do you fear?"

Jean sat silent with folded hands for several long moments. "I don't know." He answered at last, the lines in his face matching his tired tone.

Shiro tilted his head. "Then why ask for a bodyguard?"

"A precaution. I assume you know that my daughter is currently at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and will be leaving France in a month for England. There is competition to be held in England between three great schools of magic and my daughter has pleaded with me to be allowed to go."

Jean looked up to see Shiro gazing at him quietly. "There's something more," the young shinobi murmured. "You wouldn't have agreed to paying such a large sum for a simple precaution, and why go to us? You could have easily hired one of your own kind. If I'm to do my job, I expect to be informed of all the possible threats. So I'll ask you again; why did you hire a bodyguard?"

"A father's worry I suppose," Jean murmured heavily. "I wasn't lying when I said it was precaution. I didn't want to point fingers without proof. Politics can be a very unpleasant job. Treachery behind the scenes is all too common. A good portion of the influential Ministry members come from pure blood families and thus my marriage to a magical being and my contradictory views have made me unpopular among them."

"And when did you begin to feel uncertain?"

"Two week ago when Durand died. He was one of the five participants for the election; a fine elderly gentleman. I was suspicious of his death despite the accidental circumstance. When two of the other candidates withdrew leaving only Moreau and I, I began to suspect something was amiss."

"And that's when you decided to ensure your daughter's safety." Shiro finished.

"But I have no proof," Jean continued. "I hold no friendly feelings for Moreau, but I am hesitant to think he would have someone killed. He is not an honorable man, but neither is he fully bad. I just pray my fears are unfounded."

A gentle look seeped into Shiro's expression. A parent's love, the young chunin was reminded sadly. "I might not seem capable to you, Mr. Delacour," he said. "But I assure you I'll do my best to ensure your daughter's protection."

Jean looked at him without expression. "And what if events should prove more than you can handle?"

"Then the backup will jump in."

"Backup?" Jean repeated questioningly. "I thought I hired one of you only."

"You did. We take our contracts seriously. Another person will be watching from a distance in the chance that something goes awry." More than one actually, Shiro. But that didn't need to be said.

Jean's face lightened. "So I hire one and get a hidden bonus. It does me good to hear that. I'll be able to rest easier now when Fleur is away."

At that moment knocking commenced again on the door. Both parties turned towards it as Camille entered bearing a tray of sandwiches cut in half, and glasses of milk with a few confectionaries.

"Thank you," Jean said with a smile. "I did not expect to eat so richly for a midnight snack."

"It's past one," Camille corrected with a pleased smile before she left.

"So it is," Jean murmured somewhat wonderingly. The time really had flown by unwittingly. "Please help yourself," he offered to Shiro who was examining the tray.

"Thank you." He pulled of the glove from his left hand. Jean noted how he examined the food before taking a bite. It was brief but the careful movements were clear.

"Are you unfamiliar with our food?" Jean asked humorously.

"You could say that," Shiro responded while bringing the sandwich to his lips where he took the hidden opportunity to smell it. Though the chances were next to none, one couldn't be too careful. Satisfied that all was well, he bit into the food with concealed pleasure.

"So what is a shinobi?" Jean asked after a moment of relaxation. Shiro's eyes slowly flicked to his sending an unpleasant sensation through his being. Jean couldn't help feeling he had stepped into forbidden territory.

"What do you know of us?"

Jean was silent as he tried to phrase his next words in a way that wouldn't cause any offence. The quiet patient stare was quite unsettling.

"I know that you are a group of assassins that perform a wide variety of tasks for a certain fee. I don't know more than that."

"And you hired an assassin to guard your daughter?" His guest's tone was amused.

"Had Armand not been a close trusted friend of mine since childhood, I would not have dealt with you." Jean said a little sharply. "I would have preferred not to deal with killers, but Armand insisted that could not to find better protection if I hired one of you. He refused to divulge more so I had to take it in faith."

Shiro slowly rolled a cookie between his fingers. "That must have been a big leap for you. I presume then you've taken the contract all wizards who deal with us must take; to not reveal us on the pain of death and death to your families as well."

Jean nodded slightly pale. "Yes I took that oath."

"That's all you need to know about us. I will say however that we have abilities similar to magic. In fact if you witnessed it, you would think it magic."

"Are you saying you aren't wizards?" Jean asked with a hint of incredulity.

Shiro's expression darkened. "Don't judge a book by its cover," he quoted with a soft undertone. "Let me show you."

He lay down the cookie and held his hand out over the tray with his palm upwards. Jean looked down at in confusion. There was a sudden flash of motion but it was so quick he didn't pay it any thought. Jean was about to look back up when suddenly he realized there was a long deep cut across the palm of his guest. He stared gripped by morbid wonder and confusion at the pure pinkish flesh exposed on the insides of the tear and then before his eyes; like a river gushing forth into a dry bed, the valley of pink turned red as blood began to pool out from the flesh. Within a couple of seconds the liquid had filled the cut and began overflowing and dripping onto the tray.

"Mon Dieu! Jean exclaimed nearly starting from his seat in shock as has his mind processed what he had witnessed. It wasn't just the fact that his guest had calmly nearly cut his own hand in half, but it was the speed in which he had done it. Not even his own body had registered the wound and let the blood flow until a second or two had passed and the dagger that had been laying on his desk was now held in his guest's other hand.

Replacing his kunai, Shiro kept his injured hand over the tray to avoid dropping blood elsewhere and pulled off his other glove with his teeth. Not being very experienced in medical ninjutsu, he found it easier to direct the chakra when his hands were bare. Quietly murmuring the signs and focusing on his good hand, he felt the chakra that began pooling around it take a soothing flow. Once his hand began to glow green, he hovered it over his injured one and slowly felt the pain subside as his flesh and veins began to nit themselves back together. Being a deep cut, it took about a minute before it was fully healed. Under his client's speechless eyes, he flexed his healed hand. There wasn't even a scar.

"That was a healing technique," Shiro said in a tone as if nothing had happened. "So you see we aren't what you term muggles."

"So fast," Jean murmured after he had recovered. "I wasn't even certain you had moved." He looked down and felt his stomach tremble at the sight of the blood spattered across the food. The cut had not been small. Even his glass had fallen victim. Crimson trails were running down the sides and clouds of red were dispersing within the milk.

"Due to our profession, we have an enhanced sense of danger," Shiro continued as he slipped his gloves back on. "We have the skills to combat the danger. And we have the fighting experience to succeed. I don't see why an assassin can't accomplish the role of a bodyguard as proficiently as anyone else. I'll say it again: If my peers hadn't thought I was capable of such a task, I would not have been sent. The sum you agreed to pay for the successful completion of this mission is no small amount. Do you think we would jeopardize it?"

"No, I suppose not." Jean admitted. "You've convinced me enough for now. My God did you feel nothing when you cut your hand?"

"I'm used to pain." Was the brief answer, but the tone behind it spoke of stories Jean thought best left unsaid.

Jean stood up giving the tray a rueful glance. Even if part of the food had been unaffected, he had completely lost his appetite.

"We can talk again in the morning. It is getting too late. I have a meeting in the Ministry in the morning and I need to prepare. You are welcome to stay here for the night. I will show you to one of our guest rooms if you wish."

Shiro stood up and reached for his glass of milk which Jean noted had escaped the rain of blood. He quickly downed it and placed it back on the tray. That sly rascal, Jean realized suddenly as he met Shiro's innocent expression. He had purposely avoided dripping blood into his own glass.

"I admit I was mistaken to judge you on your age." The French Official admitted in a wry tone. He even allowed a smile of rueful amusement. There was no response as Shiro collected his cloak and stood waiting for him to lead the way. However despite his business like expression, Jean could practically feel the smugness radiating off his being. Jean frowned suddenly as a realization came.

"Follow me," he directed the young shinob. As they walked through the mansion, he cast a backwards glance at the silent figure trailing quietly behind him. He didn't doubt his skills. The hard almost lifeless eyes so withered and burdened, the quickness with which he moved, his tolerance to pain as he sliced his hand. He was a professional at seventeen, the same age as Fleur. However in hindsight, he was still young in character. Would an older person have demonstrated his abilities in such a way?

It didn't seem likely. But he couldn't deny the effect. It had thoroughly rattled him. Though immature in a way, it was perhaps that was a good thing. There was no denying those chilling eyes he had glimpsed near the beginning of their meeting. He could only imagine what the boy had gone through to gain such a look. However that he was still able to retain emotions like amusement and smugness was in a way a positive thing. Jean couldn't help smiling suddenly. It showed that that the hardships he must have endured in his life had not yet smothered the spark of immaturity his being still held. He was a cunning one though, Jean thought amused. He had played off the act without a twitch.

"Here is your room," Jean announced once they reached their destination. He opened the door as Shiro moved forward to look in. "You should find everything to your comfort. There is a connected bathroom as well. I'm afraid I will have to wake you early. The meeting tomorrow is very important and it will be a prime opportunity to send you to Beauxbatons where my daughter is."

There was no answer for several long moments. Jean looked at his shadowed features uncertainly. What was he thinking as he stared into the room. Then his head turned towards him and Jean once again saw those soulless eyes. Alone in the hallway lit only by a single lamp amidst the silent mansion, Jean couldn't help but feel his skin break into goosebumps.

A moment later they closed and when they reopened the look was gone. "Why is that?" Shiro asked. His tone seemed normal, perhaps a bit heavier?

Deciding to ignore it, Jean answered him. "Do you know what a portkey is?"

"A spell that has been cast on an object to take whoever touches it to a set location."

Jean nodded with slight approval. "We have a more advanced system in a special room in the Ministry. From there I can send you directly to Beauxbatons."

Shiro hummed softly before answering in a slightly teasing tone; "I see. Does that mean I have your seal of approval?"

Jean smiled briefly before his face grew serious. "I will put my faith in Armand and you. I hope it is not ill-founded."

A gentle hum again came from the young shinobi. "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight," Jean answered in kind. He turned around and walked down the dark corridor with the uneasy sensation of a pair of eyes boring into his back.

Shiro chuckled unpleasantly before entering the room. Wizards, he thought with some disdain; so soft, so easily shaken. He looked soberly around the dark room. Everything was still and peaceful. The moon streamed in through the open curtains. For a long moment Shiro stood there in silence. He felt a pang of homesickness shoot through him as he realized just how long he would be gone, and how far away he was from his home.

Quickly shaking the unpleasant feeling away, he unzipped his vest and belt and placed them with his accessories on the nightstand before undoing his bandages and sandals. Lastly he slowly pulled of his bandana and gazed reflectively at the symbol of the leaf before placing it among his equipment. With a quick sigh to steel himself, he slipped into the soft bed. He lay there staring up at the ceiling for several minutes before uneasily closing his eyes and letting sleep take him.

It was some time before Shiro realized he was alone in a dark misty landscape. He looked about wary and confused. Where was he? His steps made no sound as he walked forward. Where ever he walked, the mist would swirl apart before him. Eventually he stopped, and as he looked about, something in the swirling mist caught his eye. He slowly approached and the dark clouds dispersed to reveal a young boy staring at him with lifeless eyes and a jagged cut in his throat.

Shiro stopped and stared at him silently. He knew him. He was the young brother of an Iwa shinobi he had killed. In retaliation for the slaughter of a Leaf squad that supposedly wandered into their territory, Shiro had been tasked to assassinate one of the prominent shinobi of the Hidden Stone Village. He found his target, and he drove his tanto through her heart just as she detected his presence. Before he could withdraw his blade, her little brother walked in. The boy's features morphed into shock and he opened his mouth to cry out but a single shuriken to his throat silenced him instantly.

As Shiro gazed at the ghostly apparition, his sister moved out of the mist to stand alongside him. Blood was running down her chest from where he stabbed her. Her eyes were just as lifeless and her skin deathly pale and grey. The two just stood motionless staring wordless at him. Shiro turned away and walked on.

He could hear steps following him. Looking over his shoulder he saw the two following him. Then steps began to sound all around him and the bodies of those he had killed began to appear; too many too count; all silent, pale, grey, and bloody; staring at him with dead eyes and numb lips.

Fear crept into his being and Shiro quickened his pace. So did his past victims. Eventually he broke into a run. He could hear them pounding after him, the noise behind sounding like thunder. The outline of a house appeared ahead. As he got closer, he stopped in confusion. It was his house. He looked back and then charged in and slammed the door. He quickly locked it and stood still breathing heavily. Suddenly he realized his hands were much smaller. In confusion he looked himself over. He was a child again.

"Shiro is that you?"

"Mother?" Shiro called out. His brow furrowed in a frown. Why had he been so scared? What had he been running from? The house was lit and the glow was invitingly warm. Shiro happily wandered into the kitchen but to his disappointment dinner had not been made.

"I'm upstairs Shiro." He heard his mother call again. Shiro wandered up the familiar steps and into his mother's room. There lay his mother on the bed. She looked a little sick, but her face lighted at his arrival. She held her arms towards him and suddenly Shiro was engulfed by tears.

Why? He thought as he ran towards her and seized her in a tight hug. He buried his face into her warm bosom as her arms wrapped around him protectively. He didn't know why, but he felt overwhelming grief and pain.

"Shhh my little Shi Shi," his mother hushed. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad day at school?"

Shiro couldn't answer. His throat was so choked with grief. The tears just flowed as he held his mother tight.

"Tell me what's wrong dear." Shiro froze instantly. That wasn't his mother's voice. Dread filled every fiber of his being. He tried to lash backwards but the arms suddenly gripped him painfully. A hissing chuckle sounded out as Shiro raised his head to be confronted with the face of Orochimaru.

"You're mine now," The sannin whispered with a smile before his head darted forward and Shiro felt his fangs pierce his neck.

His eyes shot open and Shiro leaped out of bed, his heart felt like it would explode. A hand shot to his neck as he spun wildly about the room. Orochimaru's face was leering at him from every direction. A few seconds later the image faded away as his mind adjusted to reality leaving him cold and damp with sweat, one hand on his neck with other holding a kunai.

"Kuso!" Shiro swore in a choked tone; Grief, fright, and anger all combined. The last moments of the dream replayed in his mind forcing him to stride swiftly for the bathroom. He flipped on the light and rapidly examined his neck in the mirror above the sink. There was no mark at all. He nearly smashed the mirror in his fury.

"Why, why, why!" He shouted in a raw whisper. "Damn that snake to all hell!"

Vulnerable and overcome by the sudden rush of emotions, Shiro gripped the edges of the sink tightly before letting go and slipping onto the floor where he sat bowed over as he began to cry for mother, his life, his regrets…

How long he sat there, Shiro had no idea. All he knew was that his eyes were completely dry and itchy. Not another tear refused to come. Inside he felt nothing; just overwhelming emptiness and exhaustion. Slowly he picked himself up and stared in the mirror. His eyes looked as lifeless as those in his dream. His face was haggard and streaked with tear trails. His eyes were swollen and looked as if they had been bleeding.

Shiro dully turned on the tap and splashed his face. Then he wandered aimlessly back into the bedroom. He wearily looked at the clock. It was four o'clock. Laughing bitterly at himself, Shiro walked back to the bed and collapsed in it. He felt too drained to even care about another nightmare.

Eventually he sank back into a miserable sleep.


End file.
